


loss

by jhoom



Series: responsibility, love, determination & death [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Not A Happy Ending, dean confused about his sexuality, ghost!cas, voyerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: Dean thought he was mature for his age and understood concepts like death and love.  But when his best friend dies when they're eleven, he finds out he has a thing or two to learn about both.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the [SPN Writing Prompt Challenge](http://supernaturalpromptchallenge.tumblr.com/post/149812887612/welcome-to-the-second-round-of-the-supernatural). The theme for October was **horror** and my prompt was **spirit** (which I took to include 'ghost' since no one else had the prompt ghost).
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you have concerns about the tagged MCD and underage, please see the endnotes for (spoiler) details
> 
>  **EDIT:** Notice the tag 'not a happy ending'. There is more to this story, at least two parts, so I've decided to make this a series. If you're interested in the eventual happy ending be sure to subscribe to the series!

At eleven, Dean felt like he was mature for his age and wasn’t as much of a kid as his parents liked to think.  He looked after his little brother and did his homework without being told and understood all the big words grownups used when they talked about things like _responsibility_ and _love_ and _determination_ and _death._

But Dean had never felt like more of a child than he did right now, curled up under his comforter bawling his eyes out.

Because sure, maybe he’d known _intellectually_ what his parents meant when they talked about things like death.  And he’d seen it firsthand back when Grandma Campbell died when he was five.  But he’d never truly understood the _emptiness_ death could bring, the _hole_ in his life in the shape of where a person had once been.

His tears went dry before he was willing to allow himself to remember everything that had happened.  Eyes screwed shut as he continued to hide in his closet under a pile of blankets, he forced himself to relive it all because he wanted to cry again.   _Needed_ to cry again.  Because Cas deserved more than a few tears and then Dean going on like nothing had changed.  

Castiel Milton.  Dean’s best friend since he could remember.

Well, it worked, because just the mere thought of the other boy’s name had him whimpering all over again.  

Because unlike when Grandma Campbell had died, hearing that Cas had died in a car crash had felt like a knife had been stabbed into his heart.  He’d seen Cas every day of his life and had taken it for granted that that would continue to be the way of things.  He thought they’d go to high school together, graduate together, go to college together and be roommates.  

And instead he’d attended Cas’ funeral.

His parents were giving him space, knowing the futility of their words and hugs right now.  Mary had gently held Sam back when he tried to follow Dean upstairs, saying that his brother needed time.

Yeah right.  Like any amount of time would make this better.  He could live to be a hundred and the loss of Cas would still be a raw, gaping wound.  And if it the pain ever started to hurt less than it did right now, it’d be a betrayal to his lost friend and there was no way he’d let that happen.  

He wiped his nose on his sleeve and kept picturing Cas looking so lifeless in his coffin.  Them lowering the casket into the ground and covering it with dirt.  The _finality_ of it.  Dean remembered so vividly how it’d actually hit him in that moment that _Cas was never coming back._  

Fresh tears worked they way down his cheeks and he did nothing to stop them.  

Muffled through the blankets and closet, he could hear tentative knocking at his bedroom door.  “Dean, honey?”  He didn’t answer - couldn’t around the lump in his throat even if he wanted to - and waited.  “Baby, do you wanna come down for dinner?  Or I could bring you something up here if you want?”

Dean burrowed further into his blanket fort and ignored his mother.  Eventually she must have given up because there were no more soft words floating his way.  

Good.

He went back to thinking about Cas, replaying every memory of him that he could think of so that he could keep the image of his friend fresh and alive in the safety of his own head.

\- - - -

The next thing Dean noticed was that he was no longer in a ball huddled on his closet floor.  He was in his bed and it was dark, well into the night.  Crying had left his throat raw and eyes puffy, but he ignored the discomfort.  Looking around, he noticed a plate of food on his nightstand.  It’d long gone cold, but even if it hadn’t, Dean wouldn’t have eaten it.  

Scowling at it, he resolutely turned his back to the food and stared at the opposite wall.  

He didn’t feel quite as angry or upset as before.  More like he was numb.  That too felt like a betrayal to Cas, but he didn’t have the energy to invest in more crying at the moment.  Heaving a big sigh, his eyes followed the movement of shadows until he lost sight of everything again.

_“You really should eat something.”_

Dean blinked in confusion.  It was clearly a voice, tinny and almost tinged with static.  But there was nothing else, so he assumed he was imagining things.  

_“I mean it, Dean.  You haven’t eaten all day.”_

This time he snapped up, throwing off his blanket and looking wildly around the room for the source of the voice.  Because he knew whose voice it _sounded_ like, but there was no way it was… it couldn’t be… right?

_“You should eat your dinner, Dean.  There’s no reason to waste food.”_

Either he was going crazy and his mind was playing tricks on him, or someone was playing a really cruel joke on him.  “Come out, whoever you are,” he spat.  This was too much for him to handle, especially _today_ of all days.

_“Whoever I am?  Did you… you haven’t already forgotten me have you?”_

“You’re not Cas!” he hissed, hands balling into fists.  Whenever this person showed themselves, he was going to beat the living snot out of them for this.  “Cas is… Cas di…  YOU’RE **NOT** CAS!”  He winced at how loud he was and held his breath to see if his parents would come.  But there was nothing but silence from the hallway.  Good, one less thing to worry about.

_“I **am** Castiel though.”_

“Yeah _right_.  Prove it then.”  He crossed his arms over his chest and stared defiantly around the room.  “Go ahead, I’ll wait.”

Nothing happened for a while.  Dean figured the person had given up on their game and left.  He was almost about to dive back into the blankets to sulk and mope some more when a small glimmer appeared in front of him on the bed.  It disappeared in and out of sight a few times before it grew brighter.  Soon it had spread out to be about Dean’s size and shape, an amorphous shape of light.

Dean’s jaw dropped but he said nothing, entranced as the light slowly took form.  With a final burst of color, there was Castiel, sitting cross-legged in front of him on the bed.

“Cas?” he squeaked.  The spirit was pale blue like the moonlight leaking in through his curtains, but stronger with the clear outline of Cas’ face and body.  Dean could even make out his clothes, the bee hoodie his friend always wore and the light up shoes he’d begged his parents for last Christmas.  It was exactly how Dean remembered Cas, only more ethereal.  “Cas, buddy, that really you?”

The other boy smiled shyly.   _“I… I think so.”_

“How… how are you here?  You _died_ , Cas.  I saw the body and was at the funeral and everything.”

His friend frowned but nodded grimly.   _“Yes, I believe I did.  I… I remember the crash and how everything hurt but then it got very dark and didn’t hurt anymore.”_

Holy crap, his friend remembered _dying_.  Dean wasn’t sure how to handle that, so he side-stepped that whole thing and pressed on.  “How are you back then?  Are you a ghost or something?”

This time Cas shrugged.   _“I guess.  Maybe.”_  He held out a translucent hand, palm out and fingers spread slightly.  Without any hesitation, Dean raised his own hand and reaches for Cas.  As he touched the place where Cas’ hand should be, he felt cold radiating up his hand.  Strangely enough, though, something warm settled in his chest at the thought that Cas might still be with him.  But that was all he felt.  No pressure or ghostly skin.  He gave an experimental wiggle of his fingers, and they tingled as they moved through Cas’.

“Dude, you are _totally_ a ghost.”

 _“I suppose I am,”_ he answered with a gummy grin, one that revealed the missing tooth he’d lost a few weeks ago.  Dean wondered if ghosts got their adult teeth, which lead to a whole other set of questions.

“Hey Cas, how long do you think you’ll be a ghost?  Like, is this just to say good-bye or…”  He tried not to sound too choked up at the prospect of having Cas unfairly snatched away from him again.

 _“I don’t know.  I kind of feel… tethered.  Here.  To you.  Like I’m a ship and you’re my anchor.”_ He looked at Dean nervously, implicitly asking if that was alright.

“Sooo… does that mean you’re staying?”

“ _Would that be okay?”_

“Uh, are you kidding me?   _Of course_ it’d be okay!  Like I want my best friend gone and c’mon, it’s probably pretty sweet to be a ghost, right?”

_“I hope so.”_

\- - - -

The first few days were tough.  Dean had maybe been a little over the top with how sad he was, and now all of it was gone because he had Cas back.  But the two boys agreed it was better to keep the ghost thing to themselves, so Dean continued acting sad for a while.  A task made even harder by Cas randomly showing up and making funny faces just to get him to laugh at the most inopportune times.  

Jerk.

Not that Dean minded, not really.  There was probably nothing Cas could do right now that would upset Dean.  

Slowly the two figured out the full range of Cas’ ghost abilities.  It became obvious very early on that only Dean could see or hear him.  There was other general ghost-stuff.  Levitating.  Moving through walls.  If Cas concentrated, he could sometimes move small objects like paperclips or books or one time he managed to move Sam’s backpack.  The poor kid had been so freaked out that Dean had to lay off the teasing for a bit.  But Cas soon became his partner in crime for all sorts of pranks around the house.

The other things it took longer to notice and really master.  There was that scary movie Dean insisted he was old enough to watch so his parents let him.  He put on a brave face until he was alone in his room that night, too terrified to fall asleep.  When Cas appeared, he tried to cling to the apparition of his friend, begging him to stay until Dean fell asleep.

_“It’s okay Dean.  Go to sleep.  I’ll watch over you.”_

He fell asleep wrapped around the space where Cas sat, promising to keep any monsters at bay.  Almost instantly he was in a nightmare, trapped in the same haunted amusement park from the movie.  He ran and hid from the monsters lurking around each corner, gasping for air and never being quite fast enough-

 _“Dean, are you alright?”_  A warm hand was on his shoulder, stopping his frantic running.  He nearly tripped in panicked shock until he realized it was Cas.

“Cas!  Geez, don’t sneak up on a guy like that!  Can’t you see I’m in the middle of-”

_“A nightmare.  You’re having a nightmare.”_

“-a haunted amusement…  What?”

Cas took a steadying breath, one he obviously didn’t need but as Dean mirrored the action it calmed him down.   _“You’re having a nightmare.  I… I think I’m in your dream?”_  As if to confirm the suspicion, a werewolf lunged at them.  Dean gasped in fright and hid behind Castiel - who was unusually solid - as the other boy’s eyes glowed blue.  The werewolf disintegrated in a puff of smoke.

“Wow, that was _awesome_.”  Realizing he was still clinging to Cas’ hoodie, he let go and smoothed out the material.  “You didn’t tell me you could go in my dreams or had crazy ghost mojo in here!”

 _“I didn’t know I could.”_ His fingers trace down Dean’s arm, seeming to relish that the touch bore more contact in this dream realm than the waking.   _“So… what would you like to dream about tonight?”_

They started on a pirate ship, sailing the seas in search of battles and treasure.  Then they decided to be archaeologists a la Indiana Jones, exploring the jungles and hidden tombs.  Every night was a new adventure, Dean and Cas lived every fantasy a little boy could come up with.  

Overall, Dean had to say it was pretty awesome having a ghost as a best friend.

\- - - -

The downsides took longer to notice.

Dean was fourteen and starting to get some scruff.  Not much, but enough that his dad dragged him into the bathroom to show him how to shave.  (Also, not a chance Dean was going to shave it.  It’d taken him fourteen _years_ to get this far, he wasn’t going to get rid of all that hard work unless he was confident it would actually grow back.)  As awkward as the exercise had been, he was grinning proudly when he returned to the safety of his room.

 _“You look happy,”_ Cas muses from where he sits on Dean’s desk, brow furrowed in concentration as he reads through a book.  

Dean’s about to brag about the few wisps of hair when a sudden realisation occurred.  He studied Cas, spitting image of the boy who’d died three years ago.  Same clothes, same perpetual bedhead, same missing tooth.  Hell, they used to be around the same height, but he’d been gaining inches on Cas for a while now (hard to notice with the ghost always floating around, but it was obvious when he dreamed).  

When Dean tried to think of all the ways Cas has changed since the spirit first appeared to him, he found the list to be surprisingly short.  Yeah, Cas had matured mentally probably as much as Dean had.  Maybe even more.  Because while Dean was distracted by hormones and goofing off at school, Cas had been traveling around.  Whenever he wasn’t at Dean’s side, he was exploring their city or reading at the library.

(“You haunt the library?”

_“Dean, please don’t refer to my presence as ‘haunting.’”_

“I think when a ghost lingers anywhere, even if he’s just binge reading some Vonnegut, it counts as haunting.  Just sayin’.”)

Cas was wicked smart and Dean never felt like he was talking to a kid, not like he sometimes did when he was with Sam or his friends.  So they were equals there.  But someday, Dean would be an adult.  He’d tower over Cas, more so than he already did.  He’d go to college and get a job and maybe even get married and Cas…

Cas would be stuck as a child forever.  All because he was caught up in Dean’s orbit, his need for his best friend a type of gravity keeping him from moving on or whatever it was ghosts did.  

Fuck.

He realized Cas was staring at him in concern.  His earlier joy dried up as he felt crushed under the weight of what he’d just figured out.   _“Are you alright, Dean?”_

Not knowing how to bring up any of his concerns without seeming ungrateful for Cas’ company, he swallowed thickly.  He shook his head to dispel the thoughts and did his best to put on a reassuring smile.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m good.”

 

\- - - -

There were other moments scattered around that reminded Dean fiercely that this whole Cas thing wasn’t ideal.  That it was great for _him_ to have his best friend around, but at some point he feared he’d so far outstrip Cas in terms of life experience that it would cause a rift between them.  

That rift, it turned out, would come in the form of puberty.

Cas was around a lot, but not always.  Normally Dean would notice his absence as a vague sense that something was missing.  Now, though, with a hard-on and his room to himself for once, Dean found himself guiltily _happy_ the other boy was out.  

He’d only done this a few times before, mostly because of his general lack of privacy and it being a new thing.  In the shower he’d stroke himself, but with three other people fighting for hot water he rarely got the chance to do more than play around.  Today, Sam was at a friend’s house for dinner and his parents were still at work.  Add to that Cas being MIA and it was a golden opportunity that Dean, a red-blooded fourteen year old, couldn’t pass up.  

With a box of tissues handy, he undressed from the waist down and got comfortable on the bed.  He tried out different scenarios in his head.  Most of them were nameless, faceless girls.  Ever since he’d started going to football games, he’d developed a thing for cheerleader outfits.  The girls at his school weren’t as scantily clad as the cheerleaders in movies, but somehow that made it even better.  

( ~~He wasn’t ready to admit his even to himself, but part of the mental image included the male cheerleaders.  Their strong muscles tossing the girls into the air and catching them with ease.  The way their uniforms tugged tight around their biceps and how he wished _they_ had to wear something as short as the girls did.~~ )

In the middle of picturing some cheerleaders stretching, bending over to touch their toes or twisting around, he felt that familiar tightening in his lower belly.  His hand sped up of its own accord, racing towards the end-

 _“Dean?”_  A choked gasp escaped as he turned to see Cas’ eyes fixed on him in curiosity.   _“What are you… are you…?”_

Dean whined in answer, biting his lip and staring at his ghostly friend.  A chill passed through him, eagerness at having ~~Cas~~ someone watch him as he continued to jerk himself off.   _“Do you need… help?”_ Cas offered as he drifted closer.  

With monumental effort, he forced his mind to remain blank and not jump to any _ideas_.  He shook his head.  “Just… just stay there, okay?”

The other boy nodded, settling at the foot of the bed.  His hand made an aborted move to Dean’s leg before he stopped.   _“May I…?”_

Having no idea what Cas intended, Dean gave a sharp nod and sped up once again.  Fuck he was close and this was weird but he was _close_ and he couldn’t stop right now even if he wanted to.

~~He didn’t want to.~~

A ghostly hand came and settled on Dean’s ankle.  The instant spark of cold that through him at the contact made Dean arch off the bed and come harder than the poor kid ever had before.  His vision whited out for a few minutes as he lay there, gasping for air and praying his brain wouldn’t start to overanalyze what had happened.  

When he managed to finally look up, Cas was still watching him with a fascinated look on his face.  He turned away, busying himself with the task of cleaning up the mess he’d made all over his stomach.  Throwing out the evidence and grabbing his discarded boxers, he started slightly to see how intently Cas is looking at him.  “What?” he asked, voice cracking and adding to his embarrassment.

_“Nothing.  I’m just… curious, I suppose.”_

Dean grunted in reply, not making eye contact with the spirit.  “Yeah well, guess I was too.”

_“Did you enjoy it?”_

“Cas!” the boy yelped, then immediately winced.  Thank god no one was home to hear the outburst.  Lowering his voice anyway, he grit out, “You can’t just ask people stuff like that!”

_“Why not?”_

“it’s… private.”

Something dark crosses Cas’ face then and the room temperature briefly plummeted a few degrees.  Dean ignored the goosebumps prickling along his skin and waited patiently.  “Cas?” he prompted when he could no longer see his breath in the air.

“ _Sorry,”_ the ghost answered with chagrin.  “ _I… don’t know what came over me.”_

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean waved a hand dismissively.  He was feeling a strange mix of embarrassed and bold, so he channeled the latter and asked, “You ever, uh, try doing that?”

For a moment he feared Cas would pretend he didn’t understand the question, but eventually he sighed and looked away.   _“No.”_ And he shook his head for emphasis.  “ _I’ve never… my body, such as it is, it doesn’t… **react** that way.  I don’t think so, anyway.”_

“Oh.  That uh, that sucks.”  

_“I don’t mind.”_

They’d officially moved into an awkward topic of conversation, and Dean decided to close it off before it got worse.  The last thing he needed was Cas asking _questions_ about the whole thing.  Questions he couldn’t even answer honestly in the safety of his own head, never mind _out loud_ to someone else.  

“So you gonna help me with my English paper or what?  I know you read the book and you’re way better than me at all this froofroo imagery stuff.”

Accepting Dean’s lead and subject change, Cas agreed with a simple, _“Of course, Dean.”_

\- - - -

It happened one or two more times after that, but Dean decided to nip the whole thing in the bud.  He waited til Cas was around, then politely asked him for some alone time.  Cas at least didn’t seem hurt and would quietly disappear for an hour or so.  He was usually back in time for whatever dream adventure they had planned, but occasionally the spirit would be gone for a day or so at a time.  It always worried Dean and made him feel guilty as hell for asking his friend to leave in the first place.  

But each time Cas would return with an excited smile and would animatedly tell Dean about his latest trip and all the things he’d seen.  It assuaged some of Dean’s lingering remorse at kicking the guy out, but not all of it.  

To sum up how Dean felt about the whole thing, the best word he could come up with was conflicted.  The weight of _something_ kept building up in his chest, and he knew something was going to give sooner or later.  And he dreaded the moment when things would crumble around him.

\- - - -

Under Cas’ encouragement, Dean tried out and made the wrestling team.  (There’d even been a few times Cas had helped him practice during his dreams, but even asleep the proximity had gotten Dean uncomfortably hard.  He’d reluctantly put an end to the whole thing after that.)  That gained him a small amount of popularity at school, which was surprisingly nice.  Having people recognize him in the hallway and wave hello made his day.

The whole thing brought him into Lisa’s orbit.  Lisa, captain of the JV cheerleading squad and seriously hot, was almost _made_ for Dean.  When she leaned against his locker, batted her eyes and asked him out, there was no way Dean could refuse.  

Only fifteen, Dean talked too much about his new girlfriend.  His friends at school rolled their eyes as he gushed about Lisa, Sam pretended to gag, and his parents shared meaningful looks.  Cas endured the same chatter more patiently, but the scrunched look on his face belied how calm he was about it.  

The warning signs were all there, he’d later realize.  Too bad he had his head too far up his own ass to realize it.

When it finally went to hell, it started innocently enough.

_“Dean, can I ask you something?”_

“Yeah, shoot.”  He kept plugging numbers into his calculator, occasionally scribbling notes on post-it.

_“Are you… are you in love with Lisa?”_

Dean choked on nothing and looked at his best friend with wide eyes.  “Wha-what?  No!  I- I mean, I don’t know, but I don’t think so.”

 _“Oh,”_ Cas said simply.   _“Do you think you’ll fall in love with her, then?”_

“Jesus, Cas, where’s this coming from?”  His body tensed and he couldn’t explain the visceral way his body was reacting to these questions, but he wanted to run and hide or maybe punch something.  “I’m fifteen!  I don’t know shit about love.  Maybe ask me when I’m thirty or something

 _“Are you saying,”_ Cas countered, _“that since I am only eleven, I won’t ever know what love is?”_

“Wha- _No_!  First of all, you’re not eleven, don’t gimme that bullshit.  Second of all, I’m just sayin’ _I_ don’t feel like I’m old enough or that I’ve lived enough to be fallin’ in love with people or even really know what love is.”

 _“ **Lived** enough,” _ he parroted back.

Fuck.  “Dammit Cas, you know what I mean.”

Cas’ expression was calm, but something about it looked forced.   _“Yes, I think I do.”_ A space was growing between them, a huge chasm forged by Dean’s beating heart and growing body.  Dean had first noticed it a year ago, but he’d hoped it’d been imagined, or that it would stay small enough he could sidestep it.  Now he knew that would never be the case.

“Cas, man, I’m sorry-”

 _“There’s no need to apologize, Dean.  I… I think I’m going to go read at the library tonight, if you don’t mind.”_  He vanished before Dean could comment.

\- - - -

Dean tossed and turned in his bed, his earlier argument with Cas not sitting well with him.  Exhaustion was what finally pulled him under, and he drifted between formless dreams for a while before he found himself in the school gym.  He recognized the cheesy decorations from homecoming, the music and crowds indistinct in the background.

The scene shifted and he was on the dance floor, Lisa in his arms in the deep purple dress she’d worn that night.  They shuffled on their feet, not truly dancing.  They didn’t speak, just moved in time with the non-music until he felt someone tap on his shoulders.

_“May I cut in?”_

Dean stepped back to let the intruder dance with Lisa, but the boy ducked into the opening and grabbed Dean’s hands instead.  Dream Lisa disappeared as Dean took in the handsome boy now in his arms.  Well groomed hair and stunning blue eyes, the boy was nearly as tall as Dean and looked quite dapper with his charcoal suit and blue tie.  He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was a familiarity to him that drew Dean in.

Speechless, he let the stranger lead as they danced.  Soon, in the way of dreams, he found they were no longer in the crowded gymnasium but rather outside in a field under a moonlight, starry sky.  It was so damn romantic Dean’s heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster.  

_“You look beautiful tonight, Dean.”_

A shiver went down his spine.  The voice was a little off, too deep and rougher than it’d ever gotten the chance to be, but in that moment he knew this was Cas.  Or at least, this was a dream version of Castiel that appeared to be nearly Dean’s age.  His chest ached knowing the real Cas would never get the chance to look like this.  

_“Can I kiss you?”_

Dean answered by surging forward to bridge the distance and find Cas’ lips.  Cas hummed in appreciation and responded eagerly.  Dean’s lips tingled almost the same way as when he touched Ghost Cas, but he dismissed it as his mind playing tricks on him.  He melted into this Dream Cas, revelled in this moment that he and Cas might have shared if only that car crash hadn’t stolen it years ago.  

He didn’t remember how it happened, but he was on his back and Cas was above him.  If this was as close as he was ever going to get, Dean was going to take advantage.  He thrust up into Cas as he moved to nibble and kiss along his jaw, his ear, his neck, anywhere he could reach.  The other boy cried out but moved his hips in tandem with Dean’s.  

 _“I love you,”_ Dream Cas moaned.   _“I love you, Dean.”_

“Cas,” he gasped back.  He couldn’t say it back, but started to wonder if maybe he felt it too.  Neither boy lasted long, coming with sobs of relief.  Cas collapsed on him weightlessly (thank god it was a dream or he’d be crushed), burrowing into the crook of Dean’s neck and resting there.

 _“I love you,”_ he whispered again and again as he kissed the soft skin there until the dream dissolved and deep sleep stole Dean away from him.

\- - - -

When Dean awoke the next morning, there was a sense of _wrongness_.  He couldn’t place what it was, but he had this bone deep feeling of dread.  Looking around for Cas, he noticed his monitor was on.  Climbing out of bed, he forcibly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked until vision cleared.  There was a note on his computer, the blinking cursor feeling more final than the period preceding it.  

_Dean- I know what love is, and I know I love you.  I can’t offer you what you need or deserve, though, something for which I’ll regret eternally.  But it’s become too hard for me to stay here, watching you grow into a life where I will someday no longer fit.  I’m moving on, whatever that means for me.  I’m glad we got these extra years together.  Truly I am.  With all my love, Castiel._

No.  No no no no no.  He read and re-read the note, hoping to find the lie in it.  Tears well in his eyes, a pain he hasn’t felt since he was eleven taking root and threatening to break him if he let it loose.  

And as much as he wanted to hope that this was all some sick joke, he vividly recalled his dream and finally saw it as the good-bye it was.  Collapsing to his knees, the pain in his chest grew and grew as a sense of finality sunk in.  

He was never going to see Cas again.

**Author's Note:**

> MCD: Cas dies in the beginning of the fic, that's how he becomes a ghost
> 
> Underage: There's a scene with 14 year old Dean masturbating, and then both Cas and Dean as 15 year olds dry humping


End file.
